


Thunderstorm

by phantasticphun



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxious Thoughts, Established Relationship, Introspection, M/M, mentions of depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:02:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23285956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantasticphun/pseuds/phantasticphun
Summary: Dan watches a thunderstorm. Maybe he relates to it a little.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	Thunderstorm

Dan watches a storm. 

It’s two in the afternoon and the dense clouds are like one big, gray sheet covering the sky. It’s not like it’s totally dark, but it’s typical London gray. 

Dan sits on the daybed by the window in his and Phil’s living room. It’s not the most comfortable piece of furniture they own, but it has the best view. London is outside and many lights are glowing from within the shops and apartments. One woman in red runs down the sidewalk and into a building. Her umbrella is blue and she struggles with it for a second before slipping past the door. Overall, though, it’s definitely, absolutely gray.

The rain is cascading down the window in sheets and thunder is distantly pounding someplace. Dan knows that the worst is to come. The worst of the storm is to come and it’s not here yet, but right now does seem pretty bad.

“Pretty bad” is relative. Dan knows that. 

Dan watches a storm.

It’s March. The storm is happening because another cold front is coming in, pushing out the sun and warm weather, pushing out the just-budding flowers, bringing back the freezing cold. The cold will come and go, it always does, but soon it’ll just all be warm. Forever. The ice caps are melting. Climate change is happening. He knows this and yet he wishes it would be warm. He’s kind of sick of the slush and wintry wind. It’s supposed to be spring, for crying out loud! He doesn’t want _hot_ , just warm. Is that too much to ask?

Dan watches a storm.

Phil described Dan as a storm, once. Dan hopes that he meant a summer storm. Dan likes summer storms. He likes feeling the tension in the air, the warm wind against his face, the first sprinkles against the skin on his arms, signifying that it’s time to go inside. This is no summer storm, though. The rain is cold and is like little knives of ice, lacerating each object it lands on. It doesn’t feed the flowers-- it’s no spring shower-- it destroys them. It tears apart each soft petal without remorse. Dan hopes Phil doesn’t feel that he’s like that. 

Dan watches a storm.

Speaking of which, Dan doesn’t know where Phil is. Well, he sort of does. He’s in the flat someplace, but Dan doesn’t know where in the flat. He’s probably being productive. He’s probably working through this, probably has earbuds in ignoring the thunder, probably has the curtains drawn and a lamp lighting up the room, like his own personal sunshine. Phil’s probably working on a video, working on his projects, working on editing, working on emailing, working, working, working, working because he’s found himself and has found the new AmazingPhil and has found what life on YouTube without Dan is like. He probably likes it better. He probably wants Dan gone altogether, right? Why bother with Dan if Phil’s happy all by himself? 

Phil is off being successful and what is Dan doing? 

_Dan watches a storm._

Lighting flashes and thunder roars. The rain against the roof, against the side of their apartment, is almost terrifyingly loud. It’s a cacophonous symphony of discordant clamor. It’s like nature is at war with itself.

Dan watches a storm.

He wishes he could stop his cycle of hating everything he attempts to make. He wants to put out content. He wants people to stop their complaining, “Where is Dan? Where is Dan?”

But he doesn’t want them to stop because of their indifference, Dan wants to help them stop.

He can’t though.

 _He can’t_. 

Dan watches a storm.

He can’t go out for a run. His therapist said exercise is good, right? That it releases good endorphins. That’s what they tell all depressed people! That’s why he started the whole marathon-training-thing. But what happens when he can’t run?

Dan watches a storm.

He feels empty and cold, like the freezing rain is slowly filling him, replacing the blood in his veins with ice. It’s cutting him like it cuts the petals, but instead from the inside-out. He presses his cheek against the glass of the window for a moment. It’s cold.

Dan cries. 

Dan is trying. Dan is trying. Dan is trying. He’s trying to work, he swears, but some days, he can’t. Some days he just can’t. Today is a day that he can’t and he’s trying to distract himself.

Dan watches a storm.

Dan watches a storm.

Dan watches a storm.

Dan watches a storm.

Dan _is_ a storm.

Phil’s right, wherever he is. It’s hard to distract yourself with yourself. 

Dan might be a fantastic summer storm on a good day, but today is not a good day. Some days just can’t be good. Some days Dan is a March storm with chilling raindrops and cold fronts.

_Dan watches a storm._

Phil steps into the room. He’s wearing his stupid yellow emoji pajama pants and some old t-shirt. “You okay?” He asks.

Dan sniffles, turns from the window, and shakes his head.

Phil shuffles closer. “Can I help?”

Dan nods and Phil knows just what to do. 

He walks over and sits behind Dan, holding him. He doesn’t say a word and neither does Dan. Dan’s gaze is still glued to the storm outside, but his blood feels less like ice, now.

Dan watches a storm.

He thinks it’s passing. The thunder sounds further away, now. It’s not rumbling in his chest like it was earlier. He can’t see the flashes of lightning. It’s not surrounding him, reverberating in his ears, absolutely inescapable anymore.

Dan watches a storm.

It passes. The clouds break and sunshine streams through.

“You called me a storm, once,” Dan says.

Phil nods. “Storms are beautiful.”

“But destructive.”

“Storms are necessary.” 

“But no one likes them.”

Phil smiles softly. “I like them.”

Dan’s eyebrows scrunch together. “No you _don’t_.”

Phil sighs and fondly rolls his eyes. “Storms are loud and confused.”

Jabbing Phil’s side with his elbow, Dan mumbles, “Shut up.”

After a moment, Phil sighs and says, “You know I didn’t mean it maliciously.”

“I know,” Dan says. “Honestly, I _am_ kind of a storm. When it comes to nature metaphors or whatever. It makes sense.”

“And… I like them. They’re powerful. Awesome. Loud. A bit... flashy.”

Dan grins for the first time all day.

Phil continues, “They make me feel, like, _invigorated_.”

Dan turns his head and presses a soft kiss to Phil’s lips. “I love you, too.”

All storms come and pass. Dan knows that. Sometimes it’s not easy to recover from them and sometimes, it seems, they’ll last forever, but they always pass.

Dan might forever be some sort of storm, but one day, he hopes, he’ll always be the sort-of-spectacular summer kind.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr: [@PhantasticPhun](https://phantasticphun.tumblr.com)


End file.
